


dont want the world to see me

by ShyAudacity



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bisexual Fred Andrews, Bunny is a good mom, Crying, FP is having a hard time and Fred just wants to help like he always does, Hurt FP Jones II, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentioned Hal Cooper, Riverparents, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, bisexual FP Jones, parentdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: FP looks as panicked as ever when Fred finally gets close enough to touch him, his eyes red-rimmed.“FP, what are you doing out-.”“He heard.” he slurs- shit, how drunk is he? It hasn’t even been that long since the phone call ended.“What? What do you mean?” Fred asks, trying to tampering down his own increasing level of panic.“He heard us talkin’, ‘n he kick’d me out… I don’ h’ve anywhere to-”FP starts crying in earnest and Fred feels all the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, taking in the words.Mr. Jones had heard them, heknows now. He could tell Fred’s parents- but that’s not important right now- FP’s current state of distress is.They can’t stay out here any longer, they can’t risk Mr. Jones coming out here and unleashing more of his fury on both of them.“F, c’mon, we can’t stay out here,” Fred says, soft and quiet. “We’re going to my house.”ORMy take on how FP got kicked out, and what Fred did to help.





	dont want the world to see me

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this an early christmas/holiday gift to the parentdale fandom. I've been sitting on this for a while and finally finished it this morning.
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

FP really is the only person that could keep Fred on the phone past ten on a school night. He still has calc homework and half a history paper to write before third period tomorrow, but here he is, leaning against the wall in the kitchen and talking quietly to FP, trying to keep from waking his parents. They haven’t run out of things to talk about despite the fact they spent most of the afternoon together.

“You still coming to the game on Friday?”

“Think so,” Fred says, twirling the phone cord in his fingers, “Might have to stay home with my Dad though, he hasn’t been doing too hot the past few days.”

“Can’t your mom stay home with him?” FP asks. “It’s the last game of the season.”

“I know, I know, F, but my Mom’s gotta meeting or something, I don’t like leaving him alone for too long.”

“I get it. Sorry for pushin’- hey, if nothing else, you can always make it up to me later.”

A grin stretches across Fred’s face, “Oh yeah? Was there somethin’ you had in mind?”

“Maybe,” FP replies; Fred can practically hear the smile in his voice, “I was thinkin' you could-.”

The phone clicks off out of nowhere, giving him the dial tone. _What the hell_ , Fred mumbles to himself, did FP just hang up? That’s not like him. Fred dials FP’s number, but it doesn’t even ring; the phone beeps in his ear, the number isn’t in service right now.

_Alright… weird._

Fred tries not to worry about it, tells himself that maybe the power went out in FP’s neighborhood or something, but that doesn’t put him at ease. He’s got a bad feeling about the whole thing, a worrying ache growing at the top of his ribcage. He gives it half an hour of anxious pacing, waiting for the phone to ring before deciding what he needs to do.

_I should go over there._

He knows that it’s late- and risky as hell as far as running into Forsythe Sr. is concerned- but he’s gotta do it. Fred won’t be able to sleep tonight if he isn’t sure that FP’s okay.

Fred pulls on his worn out converse shoes that he left by the stairs, grabs his keys from the side table, then slips out the front door, quiet as can be. He tries once, twice, three times before his truck finally purrs to life; he’ll have to ask Hal Cooper to take a look at the engine for him, he’s always been good with cars.  

Fred tries not to wig himself out as he drives through town towards FP’s place. He knows that FP’s home life isn’t the greatest, even if he won’t talk to anyone about it, Fred can tell that it weighs on him. He just hopes that FP will open up to him at some point, that he’ll realize that he doesn’t have to be alone in this.

He slows to a stop as he comes to the entrance of the trailer park, its close enough that Fred can walk from here. He’s already planning in his head how he’s gonna go about this. Maybe a rock against his window? No, no that’s too easy, besides, Mr. Jones might hear him. Maybe if he’s lucky the window will be open and they can just talk for a minute-

The closer he gets to the trailer, Fred realizes that he can see FP sitting on the front steps, a bottle and an old duffle bag sitting at his feet.

Well, that’s certainly not what he was expecting.

FP looks as panicked as ever when Fred finally gets close enough to touch him, his eyes red-rimmed.

“FP, what are you doing out-.”

“He heard.” he slurs- shit, how drunk is he? It hasn’t even been that long since the phone call ended.

“What? What do you mean?” Fred asks, trying to tampering down his own increasing level of panic.

“He heard us talkin’, ‘n he kick’d me out… I don’ h’ve anywhere to-”

FP starts crying in earnest and Fred feels all the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, taking in the words.

Mr. Jones had heard them, he _knows now_. He could tell Fred’s parents- but that’s not important right now- FP’s current state of distress is.  

Fred is startled by all of this since FP’s never cried like this in front of him before, there’s a guttural choking sound coming from the back of his throat. When FP sticks his face into Fred’s stomach, he doesn’t know what to with himself- Fred just runs a hand over his hair, tries to gauge how drunk he is. There’s a mostly empty bottle of whiskey at his feet, lord only knows how much was in there when he started.

They can’t stay out here any longer, they can’t risk Mr. Jones coming out here and unleashing more of his fury on both of them.

“F, c’mon, we can’t stay out here,” Fred says, soft and quiet. “We’re going to my house.”

FP doesn’t respond, just whines a little. He removes his face from Fred’s stomach just long enough to take a long, hard pull from the whiskey bottle.

“Hey, _hey_ , cut that out,” Fred says, ripping it away from him, tossing it into the grass. “That’s not gonna make you feel any better. Please, FP, let me get you out of here, alright?”

FP looks up at Fred with bleary, drunken eyes, breathing heavy as he nods. He sways as he stands, stumbling forward until Fred pulls his arm over his shoulders, leading him to the truck.

FP tries to fight him as Fred attempts to get him into the front seat, mumbling incoherently the entire time. Fred’s almost glad that he can’t understand any of it, can’t imagine that he’d want to after seeing how wrecked FP is right now. He wonders for a moment if any of it’s about him, wonders what FP says about him when he’s not around- Fred tries not to think about it for too long.

They stop at the gas station on twelfth street on the way home and Fred uses his last twenty to buy painkillers and a bottle of Gatorade; he feels relieved when FP listens and stays in the car.

Once they’ve arrived, getting FP inside the house is a problem; just getting him out of the truck takes longer than it should. He doesn’t want to get out of the front seat and keeps moving away from Fred every time he touches his arm. 

Fred resorts to begging, “Please, FP, I promise you’ll feel better in my bed. Let’s just go inside already, it’s late.”  

He groans once more before finally swinging his legs out of the truck. FP shrugs his arm off when he offers it, then promptly trips on the steps, would’ve fallen on his face if Fred hadn’t caught him.

Fred tries to come in as quietly as he left, looking around his dark house, listening for any sign that his parents would still be awake. When he doesn’t hear anything, he takes FP by the hand, leading him up to his room.

FP starts crying again somewhere between coming inside and reaching his bedroom- or maybe he never stopped- and all Fred can think to do is settle him on the bed and get him comfortable. He’s in the middle of pulling FP’s shoes off when Bunny knocks on the door, then comes in to see what all the noise is about.

They’re not as quiet as Fred thought, it would seem.

“I thought I heard you come back in- is he intoxicated?” she asks, concerned.

FP, already faced away from the door, curls into himself, unable to look Bunny in the eye; Fred squeezes his shoulder once before moving around the bed, standing in front of his mother.  

“Him and Mr. Jones got into a fight,” Fred says, choosing his words carefully, “Things got a little messy- he doesn’t have anywhere to stay tonight, Mom.”

Bunny looks over his shoulder at FP, face falling as she bites her lip.

“Let him sleep it off,” she says, “He’s going to need liquids eventually- come find me if things get worse, okay? We don’t need him dehydrating on us in the middle of the night.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Fred’s never been as thankful for his mother as he is right now.

Bunny places a hand on his cheek, kissing his head once before she leaves, a passing glance thrown over her shoulder back at FP.

FP is lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, mumbling quietly to himself when Fred comes back. FP looks right at him once Fred’s in his line of sight, his eyes glossy.

“You love me, don’t you?” he asks, voice watery, looks like he could start crying again at any second.

_How could anyone ever hurt someone like him? What did FP ever do to deserve heartache like this?_

Fred leans over and kisses his forehead, thumb smoothing over his jawline.

“I do," he says, "I swear, I do.”

///

Fred wakes up at four in the morning to the sound of FP puking his guts out down the hall.

Well, at least he made it to the bathroom.

Fred joins him on the floor, rubbing FP’s back as he shakes and chokes periodically. After a while, Fred twists the cap off the Gatorade he’d brought with him, the red liquid sloshing around when FP tries to refuse it, groaning. Fred won’t hear any of his protests, not even for a second; he starts speaking softly in FP’s ear.

“Baby, you’re losing fluids left and right. C’mon, F, please just drink it for me.”

FP takes it from him begrudgingly, drinks some of the Gatorade only to cough it up a minute later. He groans again, hides his face in Fred’s neck, mumbling against his collarbone

“Should’ve left me out there… should’ve just left me to die.”

Fred’s spine goes rigid, his throat threatens to close up. He holds FP’s face in his hands, almost angry as he says, “I am never going to leave. Not now. Not ever. You got that?”

FP nods, crying again, just a little.

Fred gets him back to his room without either one of them falling on their face somehow; FP won’t let go of him for even a second. In a split-second decision, he flips their positions on the bed. Fred’s flat on his back with FP nestled against his side and chest, an arm around Fred’s waist, protective still.

Fred runs his fingers through FP’s hair and sings until the shaking stops, until they both fall asleep.

///

Bunny comes in in the morning, mostly to see if the boys want breakfast, but also for her own piece of mind; FP hadn’t looked well at all last night. She worries about him quite a lot, especially being left alone with his father; Forsythe Senior always did have quite a temper.

She’s only moderately surprised to see Fred and FP wrapped around each other in bed, always secretly wondered if something more was going on with these two. Both of them are lying on their sides, pressed back to chest, Fred’s face pressed right up against the curve of FP’s neck.

Bunny almost wishes that she had her camera with her so she could capture this moment forever.

The boys are dead to the world, so Bunny decides not to stay much longer- feels too much like she’s intruding on something she wasn’t supposed to see in the first place. She pulls the curtains shut, and pulls a blanket over the both of them. Bunny places a kiss on both of their foreheads before leaving, whispering _: sleep tight, boys. The world is still learning to love your light._

**Author's Note:**

> I dont know whether to be excited or afraid for tonights mid-season finale. Anyways.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos/Prompts are appreciated and encouraged. You can find me on tumblr as archieandrewsprotectionsquad. Thanks again for reading, have a great day!


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